


Snowblind

by ShadowHaloedAngel



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/F, Hoth, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Training, Lesbians in Space, Sarcasm, Scars, Sharing Body Heat, Sith Academy, Sith Training, Snow, Snowed In, Survival, Tropes, Truce, Why are all my characters so sarcastic, Wildlife, discussions of abusive training regimens, discussions of severe injury (past), mentions of Jace Malcom, mentions of Overseer Harkun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-09-23
Packaged: 2019-05-24 13:39:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14955702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowHaloedAngel/pseuds/ShadowHaloedAngel
Summary: On a clandestine mission to Hoth, Satele has an accident in a blizzard and has to take shelter in a cave. Far from being alone, she discovers a young Sith Lord she's never met before. In the face of the environment and the weather, the two women agree a truce.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amaranthe (awildlokiappears)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awildlokiappears/gifts).



> Tags subject to change as the fic goes on, please feel free to suggest anything else you feel should be added to them.

Satele did not shiver - it would not do for a Jedi of her stature to be seen to be affected by such things, even here - but she did draw her robes closer around her, watching with distaste as the ice crystals of her breath settled to the ground like snow. It had been years since she had last been to Hoth, and this trip was very much reminding her of why she hadn't been back.

Ordinarily this would have been a task she would have sent someone ele to do. After all, she was Grandmaster, and what did that title mean if it wasn't the ability to delegate. She might even have sent another Council member, but they were strained on enough fronts at the moment, and this was a delicate matter, better attuned to her powers than to any others she knew. 

Knowing how important this whole undertaking was didn't make her feel any better about being on Hoth, and did little to take away from the cold. It had been simultaneously complex and simple to come up with a suitable cover story for this trip. The Grandmaster rarely left Tython, although those occasions had become more frequent with the advent of war - she was, after all, an experienced warrior and tactician as well as the voice of the Jedi Order. There was always the risk that wherever she went would attract attention, and she was determined not to be the cause of innocent casualties. That was another reason for the secrecy, and why she wasn't lingering long at Aurek Base. 

She had arrived on a cloaked shuttle, dressed in plain Jedi garb, and spoken little to anyone of the reason for her visit. It was unlikely that anyone here would recognise her, but the risk was still too great. The war on Hoth wasn't just against the Empire, but against the White Maw and the elements themselves. She was still privately amazed that life could survive on a planet like this. Her journey on from here wouldn't be so smooth, though, and she had a long way to go, through territory which was some of the most hostile in the galaxy. 

She pressed a few credits into the palm of a vendor and took the reins to the offered tauntaun. She loaded up the supply packs and mounted up, wincing a little as old bones protested the movement. Hopefully the weather would hold, but there was no reason to suppose that Hoth would be any more merciful now than it was at other times. Force willing, she would be able to complete her errand before the seasons shifted again. 

With a click of her tongue, she rode out across the icy wastes. Her map was up to date, but there was no telling how long it would remain so on a ball of snow, ice, and rock. She was a Jedi. She was Grandmaster, and she could handle whatever this planet had to throw at her. At least, she had to hope so.

The purpose of this visit was two-fold; one reason enough wouldn't quite have sufficed to draw her away from Tython. The most important thing was tracking down a crashed ship in the Starship Graveyard before anyone else got wind of its existence. Fortunately it was a recent crash, but the ship itself was a small one, barely more than a shuttle. Satele knew enough to be certain that leaving it any longer than necessary would mean they risked losing the information which had gone down with the ship forever, whether that was to a tomb of ice and snow, or worse, those secrets falling into the hands of the Empire. 

It was something that she gave thought to only occasionally, that both sides had in their past philosophers who had "dangerous ideas". Those dangerous ideas unfailingly resembled the teachings of the other side, and to Satele that meant that they were concepts which originated from the Force itself. There was no other real explanation. The Dark Side had never really appealed to her, even though she could understand its temptation. The rewards of such things were always shallow, and she had seen enough unequal bargains in her time to know that something which promised great power in exchange for little in return would always change the terms until the power was nonexistent and the price was more than any soul could pay. 

The teachings she was seeking so diligently were from Voss, recent discoveries in the Jedi ruins there which were hugely valuable to the Order, and to the Republic. It was a relief that the artefacts had been found at all - there was very little left by way of evidence, and the Empire was determined to remove all trace of the Jedi on Voss. The Voss themselves did not agree with their history being destroyed, even if it was not history they had previously paid much mind to, but the Empire was forever sneaky. A Jedi agent on Voss had discovered some ancient tablets and several holocrons, but their ship had been brought down by the White Maw over Hoth. 

There were also whispers that the planet which had previously been considered weak in the Force was also the site of an ancient Sith temple. An Imperial Reclamation Service team had been observed exploring the icy wastes, and they were rarely sent anywhere without cause. Her unparalleled access to the information the Jedi had on Sith history gave her whispers, but nothing more. Although her first priority was retrieving the relics which could prove vital in forging an alliance of some kind with the mystics, verifying the truth of the rumours was also important. The presence of a Sith temple might change the landscape, both of Hoth, and of the war on its surface. Where the Empire was working simply to bleed the Republic dry, it might instead lead to them doubling their commitment in an attempt to seize the planet, and the Empire would not be above working with the worst of the White Maw should they take control. 

The gait of her tauntaun was soothing, and it was almost tempting for Satele to slip into meditation, but she needed all her wits about her faced with a landscape like this. Unfortunately the coordinates she had for the downed shuttle were an area rather than a specific location, and she knew there was a possibility she might have to search a debris field. On top of that, the Starship Graveyard was as far from Aurek base as it was possible to get, and too close to the pirate headquarters for comfort. 

She had considered whether or not to take anyone else with her. She had no apprentice anymore, but some other Jedi who could be relied upon for their discretion - perhaps the Barsen'thor or the Hero of Tython. Even a small troop of Republic soldiers to watch her back. In the end she had decided that it would draw too much of the wrong kind of attention to attempt a foray into decidedly hostile territory with even a small troop, and the Jedi she would trust at her back for a mission of such importance were becoming too well known. Not that she herself was unrecognisable, but she rarely made appearances away from Tython anymore, apart from occasionally on Coruscant to report to the Senate. With the way the war was changing, though, Satele could not dismiss formless thoughts that she might be making frontline appearances once more soon enough.

In the face of a snowstorm which had blown up fiercely out of nowhere, the wind strong and cold enough it felt like it was burning the flesh of her face where it was exposed above the scarf she had wrapped around her nose and mouth, it perhaps wasn't surprising that Satele had missed the edge of a cliff. It hadn't appeared on her map - a recent addition to the landscape as the result of a snow shelf shifting. Fortunately - or perhaps, unfortunately - her mount had taken the brunt of the impact. Satele felt a moment of regret at the loss of the creature's life, but she could be fairly sure at least that it hadn't suffered. 

The tauntaun had crushed one of her packs, but she was able to retrieve the other one, and hefted it over her shoulder. She was shivering, a combination of fear and the storm. She also knew she needed to find shelter as a matter of urgency. Hoth storms were infamous for their ferocity and strength - whole patrols had been found frozen in place before now. The problem was that she wasn't entirely sure where she was, and the snow was blowing so fiercely she could barely see at all. Satele debated for a single moment the wisdom of using her Force powers for something which would be so simple a thing, but the weather was known to make it impossible to perceive things and the storm had a Force of its own. Besides, if she used her own distinctive magic here, she risked being detected by the Sith. She was fairly confident that there was something that looked like an opening a little further along, and fortunately she was still close to the cliff wall and could follow it until she found shelter. If that lead turned out to of nowhere, then using the Force, as dangerous and difficult as it might be, was still preferable to freezing to death. For one thing, she would never hear the end of it.

Thank Force, it was a cave! Satele made her way inside, fingers resting on the hilt of her saber where it hung on her belt. She was only relieved that hadn't been damaged in the fall. Caves here were shelter for more than just careless Jedi. She had no way of knowing whether this was the home to Imperials, pirates, or worse, some of Hoth's ferocious wildlife. Either way, the cave meant a chance of survival which was at least a few percentage points higher than what she might have outside, and right now, that was enough.

The cave had a narrow entrance, but it went deep between the rocks, and there were no signs of any of the indigenous wildlife to be found. Satele heaved a sigh of relief. She couldn't afford to let her guard down entirely, but her immediate danger was resolved at least. 

There was a sound up ahead, a rock slipping and landing on the ice, something small, something innocent... unless it wasn't. Satele drew her saber from her belt, but she didn't extend the blade. Not yet. She crept forward, around the corner where the cave took a turn deeper into the cliffside. There was light flickering on the ice walls up ahead, the warm, yellow light of a fire. 

As she reached the corner, staying tucked away behind it as much as possible, she could see ahead of her the end of the cave. There was a small fire burning, giving off light, but not enough heat to reach her here. On the floor beside it was a blonde woman, strongly built, in bloodstained leggings. There was a saber beside her. There were no other Jedi here, Satele was sure of that, and this marked the woman out as a Sith, one of the enemy. 

She debated what to do. The woman was injured, but obviously not defenceless, and Satele herself was hardly in shape to fight after the fall. She was hobbling, mobile, but her left arm was weak and she couldn't be certain of surviving a confrontation. 

Certain she had made no noise to give herself away, she was startled when the woman looked up, straight at her, and a clear bell-like voice echoed around the cave, the Imperial accent crisp and strong just as she'd feared. 

"Come in. There's nothing to fear here. If you wanted to kill me you would have been rather better off with the element of surprise, but I don't think that's why you're here. I'm not arrogant enough to think the Jedi would send the Grandmaster of the Order after someone like me."

Satele sent the blade of her saber out with a thought, but she advanced slowly, wary of an ambush. 

"There's no ambush here. Just a wounded Sith Lord. I'm also not stupid enough to think I could take you down in my current position, though it doesn't seem you're on top form either."

The other woman shifted with a wince, and Satele frowned, wondering if she had any medical supplies in the one pack she'd rescued. She hadn't thought to check its contents yet. 

"Why are you here?"

"Rather the same reason as you, I suspect." The woman smiled, and her amber eyes danced. Satele was a little surprised, she hadn't come across many Sith with a sense of humour (or what Satele felt qualified as a sense of humour), and for a Sith Lord she looked altogether too... human. Those eyes were captivating. "I had a run in with some of the local wildlife who didn't take too kindly to me, and then the storm blowing in meant I had to find shelter."

"What were you doing here?"

"Keeping an eye on the White Maw. My master is convinced they can be persuaded to back the Empire. I'm rather inclined to disagree, and my intelligence so far agrees with that view, but he is rather determined to make contact. I was spying on their base - you can't have missed it."

"I rather think I did..." Satele admitted, sheathing the thrumming blade of her lightsaber once more. She missed the comfort of it, but it wasn't exactly conducive to a civilised conversation. She was coming around to the idea that the woman wasn't an immediate threat, and at least, she seemed surprised by Satele's presence on this icy wasteland. "My mount and I lost the trail in the storm, and... well."

"Fell into the fissure?"

"Is that where we are?"

"The glacial fissure, right in the middle of the planet. The White Maw base is a mountain at its centre. They gave it the rather charming name of the Chilling Death Spire, and I must admit, from what I've heard about it, it's not entirely inaccurate."

"...Well, yes, I suppose that must be what happened. It would make sense. My mount... took the brunt of the impact. I salvaged one of my packs and made my way in here. I'm rather glad to have found it."

"So am I. That is, unless you intend to kill me for it?"

Another light-hearted remark, and Satele shook her head, coming closer to sit on the other side of the fire from the Sith. 

"It seems to me that at the moment we have enough of an enemy in common in the form of the weather. That and I believe in a fair fight. You're in no fit state to defend yourself."

"I'm not entirely sure you're fit to attack either, but if you're willing to agree a truce here, I'd be more than happy to sign on."

There was a weariness to that voice, the pain of her injuries starting to tell, and Satele knew she couldn't commit murder here in thie cave. That was what it would be, after all. Murder. Together, they might stand a chance of outlasting the storm. 

"...I think, all things considered, that's the most sensible course of action."

"Good..." The blonde leant back against her pack, a little more weakly now, and Satele could see that she'd been trying to project a veneer of calmness and strength, hoping it would resolve the potential confrontation before it came to blows. The amber eyes closed. "I'm relieved you're not one of those Jedi zealots, bound to the Code above all else, and the idea that all Sith are inherently evil and must be cleansed from the galaxy."

"And I'm glad you're not a self-destructive Sith Lord who'd be prepared to kill yourself as long as you took me out with you." There was humour in Satele's voice, and she knew she was doing a poor job of concealing it. 

It was enough to open the amber eyes again, and though it wasn't possible Satele was willing to swear she could feel the warmth of them. She gave a little shake of her head, shifting closer to the fire. It must be the warmth of the flames, that was all. Anything else was folly. 

"A Jedi who knows how to laugh... and the Grandmaster of the Order no less... I am impressed..." 

She closed her eyes again, but pulled a face. 

"Although I must say, all the murdering zealots I've met who call themselves Jedi do tend to be men. The women have been more amenable to negotiation."

"I won't ask for names. But even the most dark and twisted female Sith I've encountered over the years seem to have more of a sense of self-preservation than the men."

Another chuckle. 

"It seems our sides have something in common then, more than common pursuit of the Force."

"Those who are zealots for the light do not realise how far they have fallen into shadow. Such things are intertwined, and it is easy to fall into error. The Force is neither light not dark, it is both. While I stand against the Empire and the Dark Arts that twist, I know well enough that it can never be eliminated entirely, and that if it was, the light would disappear along with it. It would be arrogant to think otherwise."

"You think the Sith exist because of the Jedi?"

"And the Jedi because of the Sith. Between the two opposing forces we find some sort of order."

"That sounded dangerously grey for the leader of the Jedi."

Satele laughed again. 

"Grey enough to match my hair, I suppose. But it's the wisdom borne of long years of mastery, of struggle and thought, the wisdom that comes from war. There will be no peace in the absence of the Force, and the annihilation of the one side would lead to the annihilation of both." She gazed into the fire, thinking. She had never voiced these thoughts aloud before, not to Orgus or Jaric, or even Syo (though that, perhaps, had been the Force warning her away from him), and yet this Sith Lord with the amber eyes and the bell-like laugh had coaxed it out of her in minutes. She didn't even feel as though she had been tempted to give anything up. "You know me, then. Despite my efforts to conceal my presence here, you know me. But I don't know you."

"Nor should you. I'm a low level Sith Intelligence operative, in service to Darth Arkous. My name is Lana Beniko."

"I am surprisingly glad to have made your acquaintance, Lord Beniko."

"Likewise, Grandmaster Shan."

"Please, call me Satele."

Another smile, another glance at those fascinating eyes. 

"In which case, please call me Lana."

"Lana. I feel your name is one I would undoubtedly have come to know well in future."

"I'm flattered by your esteem, in that case. Can I presume from that remark that you see a bright future for me in Sith Intelligence?"

"I wouldn't be at all surprised, but I am not one of the Jedi whose gift includes that of visions, so you'll have to take the word of an old commander for it. I suspect that after this cave we shall go our separate ways, working against each other. I fully expect to cross paths with you again."

Lana chuckled, wheezing slightly, but pleased nonetheless. 

"Well, I shall take the compliment such as it is. And I respect you enough to treasure it."

Her leg twinged, and Lana gasped softly, naturally pale skin approaching the shade of the snow around them. 

Satele frowned and shifted, crossing to move closer, crouching beside this Sith Lord she had never met before. 

"That wound looks nasty... how did you get it?"

"Wampa found my perch, left rather an impression I'm afraid. I've done what I can to bandage it but because it was a short scouting mission I had no more than a basic medkit with me, and that's lost somewhere in the storm if it's even still in one piece."

Satele cursed softly under her breath. 

"May I examine it?"

"I did the best job I could with the bandages, but that wasn't... well, improvised materials are never the greatest and working on oneself can be tricky."

Satele tugged her pack impatiently over from where she'd left it and began sorting through it. Ahha! Kolto, and medpacs enough to seal the wound up tight, although she didn't have anything which could help replace the lost blood. 

She didn't have to remove anything. The wampa had effectively shredded the greaves the younger woman had been wearing, depite the extra layers in defence against the cold, and the wounds were nasty. Satele cleaned what she could, applying the kolto and sticking the medpacs on in an attempt to get the wound to close again. She was fairly sure it would hold. Field medicine was another one of those arts she had picked up on the job, but practice was worth as much as natural talent in a situation like this. 

Lana was still pale, but the lines of pain on her face eased a little, and she blinked up at Satele as she came out of her meditation. 

"...Thank you. You didn't have to help me."

"I rather think I did. The Jedi believe in compassion and mercy, even to the Sith. And besides. I wanted to. I think I'd probably go insane without another person here to talk to, and there's no saying how long that storm will go on outside."

Lana chuckled, a light flush of pink on her cheeks. 

"I'm flattered nonetheless. Are you wounded?"

Satele pulled a face. 

"Bruised and battered. It gets worse with age. No open wounds, as far as I'm aware, though."

"Well that's something. What else do you have in that pack of yours?"

"I've no idea. I didn't even know which one it was when I grabbed it, only that it was still there and it would be far better taken than left."

"I rather think you're right, and at this moment in time I find myself particularly grateful for your past self's forethought."

Both women laughed again. There was little humour in the situation, but the relief made it all the headier, and it helped dissipate the tension between them. It wouldn't last, but for now... it was enough. 

With this easy cameraderie between them, as fragile and short-lived as it might be, Satele relaxed enough to take stock of her own situation. She was shivering again, she'd hardly noticed. It was a combination of there being enough heat from the fire to start her warming up again, and the fact that it had melted the snow which had been resting on her robes, meaning that her clothes were soaked through with freezing water. A quick glance told her Lana was no better off. 

"...Forgive me if this seems a little forward, but I think both of us need to get out of these robes. Hypothermia's one of the biggest dangers, and the cave itself isn't going to offer us much protection from that. The fire helps, but in some ways i think it might be making it worse."

"Isn't disrobing one of the first signs of hypothermia?"

"Only if you strip off because you start feeling warm. Personally I feel freezing so I'm fairly confident it isn't that. The robes will dry better off of us, and then we can put them back on after us, but if they're wet, we're not going to warm up any faster."

Lana sighed, shifting up on her elbows a little, still braced on her own pack. 

"...I'm inclined to agree..." She glanced away, the sweep of her lashes stark against her cheek, a light pink flush dusting her cheeks again "...Would you... be able to help me? I'm a little restricted in my movement as things stand..."

Satele recognised how much that particular admission of vulnerability must have cost, but she was determined to follow through. The Light side had lured far more Sith to its ranks with compassion than rage, like the old adage about catching flies with honey. This wasn't even about getting Lana to switch sides. It was her own code, her own convictions, and... perhaps a little something more. 

She stripped off her own clothes first, at least down to her breast band and smallclothes, spreading her robes out on the far side of the fire before she moved to help Lana. 

The other woman had evidently removed a few of her own layers already - at least Satele hoped she hadn't been out in Hoth in only what she was wearing now - but what she was wearing was still soaked through and needed to be taken off. 

Beneath the robes were acres of smooth, creamy skin, patterned lightly here and there with scars, and the taut, wiry muscles of a seasoned warrior. 

Satele sat back, trying to ignore the heat she could feel on her own cheeks, offering a tentative smile. 

"...Is that better?"

"I think so. I can feel the fire now. It's a blessed relief." 

Lana glanced up through those long long lashes again, a mischevious smile dancing on plush lips. 

"You're blushing, Grandmaster Jedi. Does nudity make you uncomfortable?"

"Not as much as Sith like to think. We aren't prudes, too many Jedi are healers for that. True healing, as I'm sure you're aware, means getting well-acquainted with the blood and dirt and messiness of existence. There are Jedi rituals enough which include nudity. Passion may be the domain of the Sith, but there have been enough Jedi over the years who have had their little dalliances."

"Mmmn... you speak truth when it comes to healing. I have some... gift for that. More than most Sith. I'm sure you're aware that most of those with a sensitivity to the Force have one calling where their strengths are bet used. I... have more of a dual calling, which is useful in the field, but... I've devoted myself more to the arts of intelligence. Negotiation, illusion, and to battle. I have at least had some time to learn some of the healing arts, more training than most, but... well. A wound that great would have exhausted me to heal entirely and I couldn't take that risk. I did what I could to stem the bleeding, but... I admit it was not enough."

Satele nodded. 

"I have some experience. All Jedi spend some time in the healing arts, those with no affinity for it are more than capable of fetching and carrying, or simple procedures. I've picked up more than that out of necessity over the years."

Lana stretched, and cast a sidelong glance at the older woman. 

"But what of those dalliances you mentioned? What form do they take?"


	2. Chapter 2

Satele chuckled. It wasn't entirely an unexpected question, but she did appreciate the woman's forthrightness. Sith did not dance around issues quite as much as Jedi, but nevertheless it was a relief to not have to engage in political gameplaying. No, this had undertones of a different game entirely, and Satele found that she wasn't entirely against it. She was a little rusty, certainly, but there were some skills that were never lost. 

"Probably not all that different to dalliances among the Sith, though I believe they tend to have more civilised endings. Jedi are less inclined towards game playing or engaging in such things in the hope for advancement overall, I suppose because they imagine it more likely to count against them. I have known more masters than I would like who have had liasons with their Padawans, something which makes me a little uncomfortable. Even as Grandmaster there is little I can do to challenge it. In my case nothing long-lasting, not even with Jace."

"Jace Malcom?"

"Oh yes, he and I were stationed together on Alderaan."

"Was he special?"

"He certainly thought so. It was enjoyable at the time, and a decision I do not regret, though it isn't a choice I would make again now."

Lana nodded slowly, gazing at the fire. Eventually she broke the silence again. 

"...Did you know the Sith call your son Technoplague?"

That made Satele laugh, and she shook her head slightly. 

"He always did have a knack for trouble. Although he bears my name he claims no tie to me. Sometimes I regret that, but there is little to be done for it now. We are civil to each other, and mostly... that is enough."

"He's a gifted agent."

"That much is true..." Satele's eyes danced a little as she met Lana's amber ones, "But then, look at his parents... what more would you expect?"

Lana laughed again, the musical sound echoing around the walls of the cave like wind chimes. 

"You make an excellent point, Grandmaster."

"At this point I think I have to ask you to call me Satele."

"In which case, please call me Lana."

"I don't think I've ever been on first name terms with a Sith before."

"Have there been many Sith who haven't been trying to kill you when you met?"

"Not many, I admit... This is different. Have you met many Jedi?"

"I've met my fair share. Some of them have even refrained from actively trying to kill me which has been nice. This is certainly the most intimate I've been with one."

Satele smiled. 

"I don't think I've spent this long in the company of a Sith without death before, but then I suppose a certain tolerance for the dark side runs in my blood. It's anathema to some Jedi, which can make war difficult."

"I can imagine..." The smile on Lana's face showed in her voice, in those crisp vowels which reminded Satele just a little of her ancestor. She didn't have many memories of her great-grandmother, but the accent had mellowed over time, and there were those who said when she was enraged, her great-grandmother showed echoes of Bastila. "You do have rather an advantage on that front."

"It is a fascinating history. There has never been a parallel to Revan in all of recorded Jedi and Sith history as far as I am aware, even going back to the days when the divide between light and dark was not so stark... there have always been those who espouse the teachings of the other side, among the Sith and even among the Jedi. But Revan... he was strong enough to stand up against the Emperor, to defy him... and to have changed his nature again and again... he truly shaped the galaxy as it is now. Sometimes I ask myself whether he shaped it for good or ill, but it matters little. My mind always returns to dealing with the matters that arise now because of how he changed it, there is little that can undo what has been done."

"There isn't much discussion of Revan at the Academy. Everyone knows his name, of course, but I believe the Masters there go out of their way to prevent the possibility of anybody changing sides being raised. There is a cult on Dromund Kaas which bears his name, but I know little of their teachings. Truthfully I only came to know of their existence through my work with Sith Intelligence. I suppose I wasn't interesting enough to capture their attention when I was young enough to be brought into their ranks."

"Powerful and polarising figures are often the focus of that sort of attention. I don't think he would particularly have welcomed it. There are stories which have been passed down in my family, and although such things are always altered in the retelling... the Revan who was a Jedi was humble in his power. It is an interesting contrast, to be sure. Darth Revan was never humble about anything, and he wanted the galaxy to know how much power he truly held, both in himself and the thrall he held others in."

"Have you shared those stories with Theron?"

Satele sighed. 

"No. As I said. We aren't close." She poked the fire a little, and added another stick of fuel to it. "It doesn't sound like the storm is dying down outside." 

"Knowing Hoth it will take hours to blow itself out. Even if we could easily get a signal out of this fissure, which is no mean feat from the bottom, there is no way it would reach either force through the wind and snow."

Satele shifted a little, wincing as old bones protested how long she had been sitting in her previous position. 

"Ah... well... I'm hungry. I lost my pack with the supplies somewhere under my mount, but there's always tauntaun..."

"I'm sure even tauntaun is palatable roasted."

"How are your wounds?"

Lana winced, shifting position herself. 

"...They hurt less than they did originally. I feel the blood loss quite keenly still, and it'll take a while to heal up. I appreciate the job you did on closing them but I'm quite anxious not to move in such a way that they open up again, particularly since if the storm continues like this there might be more pressing need for the medical supplies. Or if some of the local fauna does decide to shelter in this cave after all. I'm not sure either of us is fit for the kind of fight that would bring down on us."

"You make a fair point... my bones still ache, and I wouldn't trust my left leg to bear my weight for too long, certainly not for a fight. I'm never sure whether the aches are because of age or because it's too cold or too damp or something else that my bones find disagreeable."

"It's unlikely to be age as such," Lana replied reasonably, "You're not that old. But you are a warrior, and you always have been, long before you rose through the ranks enough to need to deal with politics. Warriors feel the impact of their career adding up, no matter how many medpacs or how much kolto you use."

Satele pulled a face. 

"There is more truth to your words than I would like to admit."

Lana grinned, a teasing note in her voice as she replied 

"My Masters always did say I was wise beyond my years."

Satele resisted the urge to throw a bandage at her, and Lana laughed. 

"Have all your dalliances been with men, Master Shan?"

There was a coyness to the tilt of her head now, and Satele chuckled.

"No. Not all. Only a Sith would be so willing to flirt while suffering from blood loss."

"What other opportunities would I have to flirt with the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order? Besides, it's not like either of us has much else to do at the moment."

"You make a valid point. I must admit I'm more than a little out of practice when it comes to flirtation. There aren't many who show much interest in me. I'm past my prime and I intimidate most men."

"I respect you, perhaps if we were at each other's throats I might even fear you. But intimidated? No."

"Not that I'm not flattered by your interest, but I am a little curious about your intentions."

Satele was rather proud of how light she kept her tone, one eyebrow arched, though she was certainly viewing the Sith with a different set of eyes now. 

Lana shrugged, the light of the fire bouncing off the pale skin of one shoulder. 

"My intentions go as far as you'll allow them to go, I suppose? Or perhaps, as far as our mutual injuries will allow them to go."

Satele watched her for a long moment, thinking about it. Everything about this scenario was slightly surreal. Would it really do so much harm? Admittedly it counted as sleeping with the enemy, but right now... Lana wasn't an enemy, and it had been a long time. 

"There's a lot to be said for conserving body heat in circumstances like this. I don't suppose it would do any harm for us to get a little closer."

"That's the spirit. Don't feel obliged to disabuse me of any preconceived notions I might have about Jedi, though."

"I don't feel obliged to do anything at all. Don't feel obliged for your part to confirm any preconceived notions I might have about Sith, either."

"Oh, I don't." Lana's smile was a little wan, but her eyes were bright and Satele still found them captivating.

"Well. Since we've established those ground rules I'm sure there won't be any miscommunication..."


	3. Chapter 3

It was Satele who shifted to close the gap between them, grimacing a little as old joints protested at the movement and the cold. It wasn't easy at the best of times, and the fall off the cliff certainly meant this wouldn't qualify even if she weren't stranded in an ice storm in an isolated cave with a Lord of the Sith. She spread the cloth she'd been sitting on out next to Lana, and settled down on it, tucking herself in next to the younger woman's side and wrapping an arm around her like it was the most natural thing in the world. There was a harmony to the way their bodies fit together, and it was not lost on Satele that it had been a long time since she had last been so close to someone. 

Lana shifted, settling in a little closer but still holding onto the last vestiges of her pride. It was only to be expected, really. Satele moved with her, helping the injured Sith get as comfortable as possible, pressed against each other from shoulder to ankle. It was very intimate indeed, but there was no sense of danger about it. Close up her eyes were still strange, but there was a softness to them. They were golden like sunlight, with no trace of the red which started to creep in as a sign of dark side corruption. 

"You are tired, Lord Ben-... Lana."

It was hard to continue to use her title pressed up so close like this, though the teasing nature of it still appealed to the mischevious little imp inside Satele she so rarely let out. Now wasn't the time, but the verbal sparring with the blonde meant it was a lot nearer the surface than usual. It was so rare to talk with someone who would give as good as they got in that respect. Having reached the highest auspices of the Jedi Order, most were intimidated by her, or paralysed with respect for her achievements, her age, or her office - she never particularly cared to find out which. For the most part the other Council member were humourless and there was little joy to be found with them either. As much as Satele took pleasure in philosophical discussions about the nature and nuance of the Force, sometimes she wished for someone with a little more of a sense of humour. It was strange to have found that under circumstances like this but she was no less grateful for it. 

For her part, Lana had tensed a little when Satele spoke, not necessarily out of fear, more... anticipation of some kind? But she relaxed when she heard her name instead. Satele was not the only one trying to get some measure of the dynamic between them, trying to find boundaries which had evaporated in these unique circumstances but which would undoubtedly be restored immediately in the aftermath. Rather, she smiled, letting her head fall back and exposing the unmarred creamy skin of her throat, only for the briefest of moments. It was a symbolic gesture in some ways - the offering of the throat for the mercy strike was a gesture more often seen from prey animals, and Lana Beniko was nobody's prey. She recognised that, in this situation however, the balance of power was tilted ever so slightly towards the mercy of this woman pressed so close and warm against her side. 

If anything, Satele cut a more impressive figure with her robes off, Lana thought. The Jedi Grandmaster was always imposing, through reputation if nothing else, but also an air of quiet power. She had never been a woman with a need for big gestures, and she was not physically powerful. Without her robes, though, it became obvious that this was the body of a warrior. Absently, almost without thought, Lana traced the faintest of faint lines that decorated the Jedi's body like a gossamer spider's web. She froze when she realised what she was doing, glancing up to meet those ice blue eyes, cold as the wastes outside and warm as the Tatooine sun all at once, fingers still barely brushing Satele's alabaster skin. 

"...Sorry..." the word was barely a breath, misting even between them in the cold air of the cave, and Satele shook her head, covering Lana's hand with her own, just briefly. 

"Not at all... I... was admiring yours, if I may?"

Lana nodded, with shyness most uncharacteristic of a Sith, and tried to fight down a shiver as calloused fingers brushed over her own scars which were much more pronounced, much more vivid against her paleness. 

"There's quite the difference, isn't there... some of yours look nasty..."

"With yours it's impossible to tell..."

Satele smiled a little at that. 

"The wonders of kolto... but I assure you, some if not most of them were nasty indeed when I got them."

"That much I don't doubt." Lana's fingers played lightly over her side. "I've never understood... why Jedi don't take more pride in their scars. Do you hide them to look superior? Is it about being untouchable?"

Satele stretched a little, arching, wincing as her back clicked a few times before she settled back against the curve of the Sith's side. 

"Nothing so deep as that. The simple truth is most of us don't like pain, and healing scars safely can be difficult. There's not a psychological aspect to it in the way there is for the Sith. We get injured, we get healed, by the Force or by kolto, but the end result is that we continue fighting."

"I suppose that makes sense..." Lana agreed, "I sometimes wonder about the wisdom of our thinking... practice at fighting through pain can make it easier in battle. If your senses are not overwhelmed by it, it makes you less likely to present the enemy an opportunity to get past your defences. Some scars are badges of honour, but suffering in pain after the battle has ended... it seems rather pointless I suppose. It's similar in some ways to the Trandoshans and their Scorekeeper, which seems strange. Their traditions are as old or even older than ours, for all that we like to pretend, and for the Empire to mimic the primitive traditions of some non-humans..."

There was a dryness to her tone that let Satele know she wasn't entirely serious about primitive nature of non-humans. It was the Empire's official line, everyone knew it, but there were some in the Empire who did not share the view that all aliens were somehow inferior by nature. That wasn't accounting for the relationship between the Empire and the Chiss, who were official Imperial allies, and the only alien species the Empire had ever acknowledged so freely. 

"I can see some scars being badges of honour. I think that attitude persists among warriors everywhere, whatever their particular allegiance or belief system. There are scarred Jedi, but it's not usually something that comes about through training. Sometimes in battle, it can't be helped." Satele nodded at the bandages wrapped tightly around the younger woman's thigh, "If that scars will it be a badge of honour?"

"That's an interesting question..." Lana shifted to glance down at the wound herself, considering, "I think any wound from Hoth wildlife where the recipient lives to tell the tale is probably a badge of honour, certainly. The circumstances under which I personally acquired it, perhaps less so. Sith don't reconnoitre, we don't spy... we lead, we fight, we charge in. Subtlety is not foremost among the ways of the Sith, even in our political games. If it scars, it will be a memory for me, but perhaps not a story I would share so openly with others."

"You don't think it would be popular to know that you were healed by the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order?"

A smile was dancing on Satele's lips as she raised her eyebrow, and Lana laughed, free and clear as a bell echoing around the mire-covered walls. 

"Not knowing that you walked away afterwards, certainly."

Satele laughed along with her, feeling her heart lift despite their situation. It had been a long, long time since she had last been able to be all of herself. She could let her guard down here in a way she couldn't with anyone else, anywhere else. Of course she was aware that the woman she was with was a Lord of the Sith, but nothing Lana Beniko had done so far was tinged with deception, and Satele was well-practised at sensing such things. Instead both of them were finding a freedom in confiding with the enemy, knowing that they were so different, the chances of encountering each other again after this were infinitesimally small. A lowly Sith intelligence operative was no real threat to the Jedi Grandmaster, and that meant Satele could freely laugh and doubt and express everything that might risk the faith of her own troops in the Republic. Lana could doubt the Empire knowing that she had a sympathetic audience who would not betray any of her confidences to her superiors, because the likelihood of Satele Shan having a back line to Darth Arkous or any other Council Member and risking contact simply to inform them a low ranking Lord might be having doubts... such a thing was laughable. 

"Mmmn... what's your worst scar, then? If we're comparing battle injuries."

Satele considered for a moment, then took the Sith's hand and guided it to her side, resting just at the base of her rib cage. 

"Probably this one. I had a disagreement with a manka cat on Alderaan. I made the mistake of getting between a matriarch and her cub, she took it rather personally. They say the tusks have healing properties but in my case she managed to get it in under my ribs, curving up and through. It got stuck. I'm certain if Jace hadn't been there I would have died. She punctured my diaphragm, and my lung. She wasn't all that enthused to have me stuck on the tusk either and was thrashing about trying to throw me off. That was a long time in recovery, even with the help of the Force. Took me out of active duty for about six months, and it was at least a year before I was back to my former self."

Lana winced, resting her hand over the area like it was the most natural thing in the world. She could feel slight ridges there, but they weren't visible. It seemed so strange that an injury so severe could have left so little a trace. 

"I think that definitely counts. I'm... glad he was there. I'm glad you survived. That would have been a horrible way to die."

"It would but in some ways at least it would have been quick. Death by bureaucracy is a slow death, and I'm a warrior at heart, not a politician."

"Oh that much I understand... mmmn..." Lana shifted a little against the packs she was leaning on, wincing. 

"I showed you mine, now you show me yours?" 

Satele tried to keep her tone light, ignoring the way her heart was pounding as she brushed her fingers lightly over the smooth skin of the other's stomach. 

"Hmm..." After a moment's thought, Lana drew the Jedi's hand down to her thigh, the one not currently wrapped tight against fresh wounds. The scars there were lines, thin ridges that wrapped around and around the muscle, and Satele traced them with a frown. Lana's breath caught a little in her throat at the feeling of those fingertips on the soft warmth of her inner thigh. Oh that was unexpected. 

"I think this one. Some sentient vines on Dromund Kaas, deep in the jungle. I was sent to investigate a rebel Darth, and he had some rather unorthodox defences. Either we weren't aware of them, or my master deliberately chose to omit that information. Quite honestly neither would surprise me. They reacted to motion, the thorns were more than an inch long. I didn't see it coming, and they had me by the leg before I could react, getting tighter and tighter, the thorns biting in like teeth. It's... very hard to master your instincts in a situation like that and stop struggling. I think I managed just in time before they reached the femoral artery. They weren't susceptible to Force manipulation, but fortunately they couldn't stand up to a lightsaber. I think they were primarily designed to be his defence against slaves, troops, and beasts. Like I said, Sith aren't known for going in through the back door. That's probably the closest I came to something worse, part of it was being young and inexperienced."

"You're still young."

Lana grinned, appreciating how easy it was to look into Satele's eyes from this close up. 

"Yes, but much less inexperienced."

She shifted again, and Satele slid an arm around her back, trying to steady her and help her get comfortable. If it so happened that getting comfortable involved them pressing even closer together, well, that was just a price she would have to be willing to pay... but the Jedi frowned as she found ridges on Lana's back. 

"...And these? Forgive me if that's too personal, you don't owe me your story."

"I'm not entirely clear on what might count as too personal while in a position like this..." Lana deflected, though the light in her eyes dimmed a little. She took a moment to adjust herself against Satele's side, resting her head on the Jedi's shoulder. "Those are from Korriban." She was proud of the way her voice wasn't shaking, even as she remembered. She had to sound proud, to be proud. She was Sith. Those scars were part of what had made her so. 

"From your trials?"

Satele's voice was soft now, they were close enough that there was no need to do anything more than whisper, particularly with the way the cave magnified sounds. The intimacy of it, though, was enough to make Lana shiver. She knew she wasn't in as much control as she would like to be, but this situation had been out of control since the beginning. 

"...From before. There are barriers to even reaching the trials, as I'm sure you know. How does it work for Jedi?"

"Usually those who are Force-sensitive are identified by other Jedi. Identifying someone comes with a certain amount of responsibility. You have to train them until someone more suitable can be found, assessing their potential, teaching them to control their powers, all of that rests on the shoulder of whoever it is does the finding. In some the Force is strong, but not strong enough to be dangerous. A few lessons usually suffice, and if they want to find a place on Tython they are welcome, but they are not usually inducted into the order. Most are brought to Tython eventually, where they are trained. There are some Masters with a gift for teaching who oversee most acolytes and apprentices, who teach the code, meditation, combat... assessment is continuous, but low level. Those who are found not to have the necessary temperament or qualities remain part of the order but take on different roles. They serve in our infirmaries, in our libraries. Some of them become quite impressive scholars in their own right. We find it best to keep them close, because whether we like it or not they do have power, and just enough training to be dangerous."

"Keeping your friends close, but your enemies closer?"

"Mmmn... something like that. What does that make us?"

Lana's breath ghosted along Satele's jaw as she whispered, "Very close indeed..."

The Jedi Master's chuckle reverberated through her and Lana could feel her senses thrumming. There was something building here between them, but as yet it was still undetermined, beneath the surface, unspoken. She wondered what, if anything, it would become. 

"How is it on Korriban?"

"I'm sure it would be what you Jedi would class as barbaric. Anyone with Force abilities born in Empire space is sent to Korriban. There is no initial assessment period, no guidance. It is compulsory, regardless of birth. Those born to Sith often receive some training before they go, they're raised in it by their families. For those who are lowborn or slaveborn, or even with no Force history in the family, it can be harder. Much harder. Overseers take charge of groups of acolytes, determining their trials, grooming them for selection by masters at the end, if they prove worthy. There is rather less nuance to that than in Jedi training, though. Those who fail, die. It is a microcosm of evolution, where the fittest, the strongest, the most cunning survive, and they kill their littermates on the way. The trials often take place in the Sith tombs on Korriban, at least in the beginning. There is no room for failure. There is no forgiveness between Sith. 

They are the underlying root of the Empire's obsession with blood purity, those who are non-human at the academy are treated like dirt. It's not helped by the fact that they're usually dragged out of the slave pens to get there. Personally I find it ridiculous that the Empire is willing to waste such assets and such potential, particularly given those Dark Lords of history who have much to teach us. For those who claim to be motivated by tradition, they are very selective about what they choose to remember. I suppose it's always like that, though. 

At the Academy, the Overseer's word is law until an Apprentice has a Master. I was... fortunate enough to be overseen by one of the known sadists of the Academy, even by Sith standards. He disliked me from the start. There aren't many he does like. Pureblood Sith males are his favourites. I had some advantage at least being an Imperial human, but I am female, I am not from a Sith family, I don't automatically believe aliens are inferior, and I see the value of working cooperatively for victory rather than dying pointlessly in glorious isolation. Harkun was always fond of the whip. I don't think I've met any who had their start under him without a mark from it somewhere."

Satele traced her fingers over the ridges that ran from shoulder to the small of her back, steady and quiet. She didn't know what to say. Pity would be unwelcome, that much she knew. Pity would take away from what this woman had survived, from her strength, from her pride, and although Satele herself would probably have wished the scars gone, she could understand why someone would want to keep the reminder. It was a token of strength nobody could deny or ignore. 

Lana's lips twisted a little as she turned her head to gaze up into Satele's eyes. 

"Do you pity me now, Jedi?"

"No."

"You surprise me."

"I see nothing in you to pity. Do not mistake mercy and a belief in healing for a lack of understanding of the value of pain nor of strength. Do I agree with what was done to you? No, I do not, but it is not for me to define your experience for you. Our scars tell our stories, the brutality of yours is not something to be shied away from or denied, even if it is not something I believe should be celebrated."

Lana was quiet for a moment, but the challenge in her golden eyes had softened as she continued to watch Satele for a long moment. 

"You're very open minded."

"It often comes with experience. Wisdom is not a given but age and practice help."

"Experience has all sorts of value..."

"True enough. Would you care to find out what kind of experience I have?"

Satele was leaning in closer now, her lips almost, almost but not quite brushing the corner of Lana's mouth.

"Only if you'd care to offer a demonstration..." Lana managed to gasp out before Satele's lips were on hers and she almost forgot how to breathe. She was no virgin by any measure, she'd had partners before, both male and female, but those had been casual dalliances and nothing more. This was... something Lana still wasn't sure of, for all that she knew it could never go beyond the walls of this cave. No partner she'd ever had before had radiated power as much as this seemingly unassuming, captivating woman. 

"Oh... Have you done this before?"

Satele was nuzzling down Lana's throat, breath ghosting over the skin of her breasts as she worked lower, and there was mischief in those ice-blue eyes as she glanced up. 

"I thought you wanted a demonstration of my experience, Lord Beniko..."

"Oh so it's like that now is it, Grandmaster Shan?" Lana couldn't help but laugh, still taken off guard by the older woman's sense of humour. Every Jedi she had encountered before had seemed so staid and boring, although most of them had also been trying to kill her. Sith jokes always had an underlying cruelty to them, but this was different, and different to every partner she'd ever had before. Despite the blood loss, and the throbbing in her leg which had barely dissipated, Lana Beniko was rather enjoying herself. 

"It is indeed... now, may I continue?"

"By all means, do your worst."

"I rather think we'd both prefer it if I did my best..."

And with that parting shot Lana's eyes fell closed as Satele's lips found a nipple through the fabric of her bra, and calloused fingers slipped into her smallclothes. Past experience told her that an orgasm after blood loss usually resulted in dizziness. Fortunately, she was already on the ground and thus had nowhere further to fall.


	4. Epilogue

By some miracle, the fire was still burning come morning. It was low, of course, barely giving off any heat at all, but it had kept the chill from settling into their bones and both Satele and Lana were grateful for that as they woke.

They were both stiff, shifting awkwardly from where they were tangled together, Satele wrapped up close against Lana's back, head pillowed on her pack. Lana had shifted at some point to cuddle Satele's arm, and their legs were interwoven. It had felt so natural last night to fall asleep like this, but they were both regretting it now as they attempted to detangle aching bones. 

It was Satele who managed to sit up first, tugging the cloak which they had been using as a blanket back up over Lana again and wincing. 

"I am too old for that..."

Lana chuckled wheezily into the pack, trying to banish the cold from her lungs. 

"Well, I think you successfully proved that you're not too old for everything."

"I'm so glad you were satisfied."

"Mmmn... more than satisfied. I don't think I've had as good a lover, and believe me, there's been plenty of competition."

Satele sat up a little straighter, glancing back over her shoulder at where the blonde was still lying snuggled under the cloak. 

"Now that I can believe... and while I feel more than a little self-satisfied that I've beaten out presumably at least a few Sith in the satisfaction stakes, it does sadden me a little that your other lovers haven't been so skilled."

"Well, as you said last night skill comes from experience, and you are /very/ experienced."

"Are you calling me old again Lord Beniko?" Satele teased as she sorted through their robes, now fortunately dry and even a little warm at the edges. She pulled a face at the thought of pulling them on over her dirty underclothes - she was old enough now to be fastidious for certain - and rummaged in her pack again, hoping that there might be some clean ones in there. Thank Force, she was in luck. 

Lana flopped onto her back with a dramatic exhale. 

"Ugh... No, after last night I will never again impugn your experience, stamina, age, or wisdom."

"Then my work here is done. I have some clean smalls that might fit you, would you like to borrow some?"

"That would be kind, thank you. I would offer to have them cleaned and sent back, but I'm not sure how feasible that is. A Sith Lord sending the Jedi Grandmaster some underwear? It's likely to be frowned upon, but I do my best to return what I borrow. And as to your work here, I refuse to believe that you came to Hoth solely with the intention of getting laid."

Satele pulled out a second set and threw them back over to Lana, smiling to see that her aim was true and they hadn't /quite/ hit the younger woman in the face.

"Perhaps for the sake of our temporary truce, it might be better to think I did? I cannot tell you more, and I will not. I hope that you respect me enough not to ask."

Her voice was quieter now as she sorted through the remaining supplies she had, and changed into her clean clothes and now fortunately dry robes. Her back was to Lana now, not that there was much need for modesty after last night, but because this transition back to normality after the suspended reality of the snow storm was not going to be easy on either of them. 

There was a long pause, then "You're right. I'm sorry."

Satele could hear Lana shifting, and she folded the other woman's robes neatly and turned back to her, picking up another medpac on the way. 

"Here. Let me help. How's your leg?"

Lana winced as she moved so Satele could examine the bandages. 

"I think it's better than it was... that's not hard, obviously, but it still hurts."

Satele eased off the old medpac and checked it over before she applied the fresh one.

"It's sealed up at least, so that's something, but I'll wrap it tight anyway. Try to keep off that leg as much as possible. When we get out of here will you be able to send a distress signal?"

"I will. My master might not be so happy about how my mission turned out, but I'm sure he'll understand, and whatever his feelings on the matter the military will take me back to a base regardless. There are some advantages to pulling rank occasionally."

Lana shifted to help as Satele eased her robes back on, sighing at the lack of leg armour. She hadn't intended to be out for a long mission anyway, so she didn't have spare gear, and the cold outside would bite like a whitefang. It wouldn't be for long though, at least judging by the quiet outside. Assuming the snow hadn't blocked the cave entrance, they should both be able to get out of here intact, which was a considerable improvement on how things had seemed last night. 

The Grandmaster stood and stretched, wincing a little as her entire body protested the movement. Her leg seemed a little more steady than it had last night though, and she was grateful for that. She sighed, pulled her cloak back on and gathered her pack, then held an arm out to Lana, helping the Sith to her feet. 

Golden eyes were still strangely warm, even as Satele damped the fire, and she met them without a moment's hesitation. 

"I might regret sleeping on the floor of an ice cave, but there is nothing else I regret about last night. Rather I find myself quite glad to have met you. It is always nice to be reminded that even in the Empire there are those who carry themselves with integrity. I have met honourable Sith before, but they are few and far between, and the memories of the others often overwhelm them. But you have integrity and honour, and I hope that they will not be compromised. You are quite the asset to Imperial Intelligence, you would be to anyone. I might not have known your name before, but I am quite sure I will hear it again in future."

"Is this the part where you don't give me your number and then never call again?"

"On the contrary. There may come a time when you need me. I trust you to know when that time is. You have quite the touch of destiny about you, Lana Beniko, and I will follow your career with interest, albeit from a distance. But if that time comes, when that time comes, if you call me I will answer."

"All this on the basis of one night?" Lana teased, raising a quizzical eyebrow, and Satele chuckled low as she shook her head, a smile resting on her own lips despite herself. 

"You are definitely feeling more yourself, I suspect. But it was, by your own admission, a good night."

Lana's smile softened and she nodded. 

"Indeed it was. Will you go first?"

"I'm in more of a fit state to move than you, so I'll head out and down the valley a little ways before I make my call. It also means I should be out of the way when your rescue party arrives. It's been a pleasure, Lana Beniko, may the Force be with you."

Lana smiled as she watched the older woman turn to go. In so many ways this all felt like a dream, but it was not one she would ever share with another soul. 

"Indeed, Grandmaster Shan. May the Force serve you well."

Satele raised a hand in farewell without turning back, and strode her way out of the cave.


End file.
